


Daily Writing Prompts: Book #1

by orphan_account



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:21:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: This talks about suicide and rape. You have been warned.





	1. Chapter 1

PROMPT

Friendship: Write about being friends with someone.

* * *

It was the first week of sixth grade when I first met you. We sat at the same table in art class, first quarter, and all I remember was your DC t-shirts which made me wish I had the confidence to talk to you. You talked to everyone at our table, though. Everyone but me.

I worked up the courage to finally compliment your shirt. It was red with Harley Quinn on it. I remember saying, "I really like your shirt!" and awkwardly laughing afterwards when you didn't take it well. Maybe I caught you off-guard because I rarely talk, but you told me thank you. From that point on, we talked more and more. And I was beyond ecstatic to realize that we also had another friend that we both knew, you sat at my lunch table and I always sat next to you. In a way, I was obsessed with you because you were pretty, you weren't shy and you never put up with people's shit, but you were also empathetic. I know you would cry if someone did insult you, but you wouldn't cry in front of them; you'd cry in your bathroom and then act like it never happened. I wanted to be just like you. I wanted to be with you.

You were my best friend. We texted after the school day, every day, on messenger, Snapchat, Instagram... I got Instagram because I knew you had it, and that there was group chats on there. I didn't post anything back then, I solely used it to talk to you and our other friends, but you were always my number one priority. You weren't perfect, I know now, but back then I couldn't say anything mean about if I even wanted to. I talked to you in gym class instead of playing, and we would always get yelled at by our teammates but we would laugh it off because it didn't really matter back then. All that mattered was that we were young and we were happy.

We shared a gym locker, I knew the combination and you were always worried I would be gone and you wouldn't be able to open it. I always made sure to text you the combination in case I was gone. I'd never leave you in the dust, you'd have to kill me first before I did that.

I thought I only admired you, but in seventh grade, you made me feel butterflies in my throat and burned tears in my eyes. You were dating someone else, a different girl, and though I never showed it; I was beyond envious. I wanted to be your girlfriend, I wanted to hold your hand and I wanted to kiss you. But back then was different, I didn't know if I really liked you or if I was pretending to. I would cry in the locker room, sitting on the floor after everyone left because I couldn't cope with the thought of being with a girl; of being with you. I was so scared all of the time, but I knew that as long as you were my friend, that I'd be okay. I couldn't help but wish to kiss you, but I would never try to break your happiness with someone else. All I really wanted was to see you happy, and that's all I ever did.

In eighth grade, you dated someone else; another girl, but you only talked to her for three weeks. You knew me for three years. I knew I shouldn't expect anything, I knew that if I wanted something, I should've made a move. But I never did, not then. I watched you date her after saying you didn't want to. You two were nearly together for a year, and I smiled because you smiled. But I always felt like dying because you were smiling because of her, not because of me.

You two broke up after you were unhappy with being with her. You only hesitated because she told you that you were the only one she really had, you were always too sweet for your own good. That's why I loved you. People may say I am overstating my feelings, but I never felt such passion than I did for you. I loved you because you bore through three more months with a girl you no longer liked like that, only because you didn't wish to hurt her feelings. I just wish you were that compassionate towards me. Didn't you ever see how much I hurt because you kissed her, not me? Not that it matters now, I'm finally happy with someone who wants me as much as I want them, but it still hurts. I think of you and it just stings.

Before ninth grade, my step-father died. I felt like a candle got blown out of me. I couldn't stop myself from weeping, and I still can't now. He never knew I liked girls, he can never support me like I know he would, had he known. The Friday of the very first week of school was his funeral. It's all a blur for me. All I can remember was spending the night at your house before I went to my grandma's, staying up late listening to Tayler Swift's new song and watching the god awful Death Note live-action movie. I remember us spooning and me never feeling safer than in that moment. My step-father picked me up after that sleepover and I couldn't be happier. All I could think was of you.

Then he died. I'm good at pretending to be happy, I did it every time I saw you and her, but after that, I couldn't. You all noticed and for the first time in a while after knowing you, I felt like you actually cared about me. I was so depressed and so ecstatic and everything was just a blur. Things didn't get better. I started my healing path with my face buried in the sand, wishing life would slow. You told me that you didn't want a girlfriend, that you wanted a boyfriend. I couldn't but feel like I had gotten stabbed again. I smiled and told you that you will have that chance in high school. We moved on. I just wish that my heart did as well.

I asked you to homecoming that year. I entered orchestra before I went to choir, my heart on my sleeve. We were already going together, but I just wanted to make us dates that night. I smiled as bright as the sun and asked if you wanted to go with me. You misunderstood at first, and I can't say I blame you. Deep down, I know that we were on different levels. You kept growing and growing, and I stayed the same as I always was. You asked me if I meant carpooling and my heart dropped. I could feel it in my throat. I clarified, but it didn't make anything feel special anymore. We went, but there was no slow dances. If I were to guess when I realized you would never be my girlfriend, it had to be that night. I knew we were just not dating material for each other. In a way, that's okay. I got through your weeds and found someone better, but I just wish I could've found a single flower in all of those weeds.

You got the boyfriend you wanted, and I guess in a way, I got someone I never knew I needed it. But I was still envious. Envious of him. But when I saw how happy you were with him, I swallowed my pride and moved on. It wasn't easy. Today I still feel a residue of what I felt for you, the feelings I never got to say, all the talks I'll never get with you. Part of me is angry at you for never realizing, part of me is angry at myself for never trying, and the final part of me is thankful this mess of unrequited feelings is done with. I don't know if I got true closure with you or not, but I now know I don't need to. I have a wonderful boyfriend, one who puts me first and doesn't make me put for all of the effort.

I can look back on you, on us, and realize that maybe you weren't who I wanted to believe you were. I don't think you are a bad friend or even a bad person, but I feel walked on by you. There's still so much I wish you knew about me, so much I want to say but never can now. We just aren't friends anymore. I lost someone great to me, but I found someone greater through that loss. As a friend, I will always loved you but as a person, I realize that we still aren't on the same level. I'm no longer in your head, though you linger in my mine. I still miss you. I miss our talks, all the funny snapchat photos and silly memes we sent each other. I will miss the time we ran through the rain barefoot, I will miss our sleepovers, and I will miss laying my head in your lap as you played with my hair. We were always so close, but not close enough. You are nothing more but a thorn in my heart now, despite how much I miss you. I always will, but we are on different paths of life. I bid you the best, as you did give me some of the best years of my life.

I wish it would be for forever, I do. But I won't force myself where I don't belong, I won't starve myself on your minimal affection anymore.

Goodbye, my former (lover) best friend.


	2. Prompt #2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This talks about suicide and rape. You have been warned.

PROMPT

Letter: Write a letter to someone; alive or dead.

* * *

Dear Paul,

It's been a really long time. I think this has been overdue, but I can never do anything right or when someone wants it. To be honest, the only reason I can write this right now is because I have tears burning down my cheeks and I just need someone to listen to me. You are kind of forced to listen to me now, not to be dark or anything. I just hate forcing these sort of things onto my friends because I know once I open my bottle of emotions, I'll drown in them. I am really sick of drowning, Paul. All I seem to do is lay around, waiting for life to happen as I sit back and watch it all unfold. Even when I try to take control, I can never keep said control.

I failed two of my classes. I am a bad student and I wish I tried harder this school year. Playing check-up towards the finals wouldn't have been so hard, had I just did my work and listened and took notes like a good student. But I didn't. Instead, I did the bare minimum and cried when it was far too late to do anything to save my grades or my healthy lifestyle. I did it all to myself and I always blame myself. I am beyond stupid. The saddest thing is that I know, had I put in the proper effort, I could've been a stellar student. I could have at least mustered all B's instead of threading the needle with C's and D's. You used to always say, "D's don't get degrees." I know the intent behind that: doing the bare minimum isn't enough in life. But that's all I do nowadays, and when I am not doing that, I am sitting in my bedroom, bored out of my mind.

Paul, I know you aren't really here. I know you won't ever really read this and I know who ever reads this will be confused because they won't know who you are or why you are so important to me. I know that the only person who will read this will most likely be me. But that doesn't mean that I can't still type this out. In a way, I feel like you will read this, I want to believe that somehow, somewhere, you are reading this. I know it isn't true. Life just doesn't work like that, you're dead. Soon, you will be dead for two years but I just don't want to believe that. I want to believe that you are out there, waiting to show up again when I really need you. I need you now, Paul. My days are numbered and I am scared that I will eventually hurt myself. I already have the thoughts in my head, I could overdose on my Pamprin or Midol pills or I could slit open my wrists. I am scared of the physical pain and probably never will, but I could.

I just wish that you were here to tell me how stupid I am for thinking like this. You could've helped me with Advanced Algebra and I probably wouldn't have failed. I wouldn't feel so hopeless if you were here. I know I am stupid, Paul. I am so fucking smart and so fucking stupid at the same time. Yes, I know how to say, "Hello, how are you? I am good. My name is Sam," in Chinese but I can't figure out how to love myself. I can fucking read two books within a day but I can't study longer than ten minutes without my head hurting and me going online to play games, to forget about my troubles.

I know that you would tell me that I should live day by day, and to make the most of every day because life is precious and that you can always make more money, you can't make more time. I know that my mom hates me or is at least disappointed in me. I want to make her proud! All I seek is her approval in life, her support, but I know I am not earning it with my less-than-ideal grades and low self-esteem. I know that she breaks down every time a Child Protective Service officer needs to talk to me because she can't believe her baby girl was raped. I know she probably thinks I need to be sheltered and protected.

You never knew that, Paul. But I was raped. It came out recently and played a major part in me failing school. I had to leave school earlier to talk to CPS and I have to go and make sure nothing is internally broken. I am sixteen now, Paul, and I had to go through the worst part of my life without you there. I honestly don't know what you would have done, other than protect me, I guess. But my dad blames me for it. My blood dad. He says I should take some responsibility. Do you know how much that hurt me, Paul? To have your own father say that you should take some responsibility over you getting fucking raped when you were eleven-years-old? To clarify: it hurts. It hurts so much. It makes me feel unbelievably guilty and dirty. I do wish I reported sooner, told someone sooner, recovered from this sooner, but I didn't because I was scared.

I thought if I ignored it, the pain would stop. Don't think it, don't feel it. That's not how it works, but I truly believed it would work that way. All I want is a pain free life. I am so tired all of the time, Paul. I had two people die within the same month when I was in seventh grade, and then you died after eighth grade, before my Freshman year. I was so hurt over that, I still am. I haven't gone to your grave, yet, and I don't know if I ever can. I don't want to imagine you deep in the dirt. I want you home with me. I want you to meet my boyfriend, he's beyond sweet and helps take care of me when I need it. I want you to hold your son again. He won't even know you when he's older and I hate that. You were the greatest dad ever, Paul, and he will never know that. It is so unfair to me and him and my sister. I want you to come home again.

A part of me died when you died. A fire went out in me and nothing has kept it enflamed for long enough to make a real difference. I don't feel you anywhere anymore. I don't dream of you anymore. I can hardly remember the sound of your voice. I never want to forget the sound of your voice and if I do? Then it's all over for me. I just want one last hug. I want one last "I love you" and one last joke. AND I WILL NEVER HAVE THAT AGAIN.

I can scream and cry and scream and cry. I can beg and bargain. And nothing will bring you back. Grief fucking sucks. Guilt fucking sucks. Pain altogether makes me want to slit my throat open so I never have to suffer again. And I'm not religious by no means again, but maybe death wouldn't be so bad if I got to see you again. I don't... want to die. Not entirely. When I am like this, hurting all over, I do. But I want William to keep knocking on my door before bed time and blow me kisses. I love my little brother, your son, so much. I want him to grow up with me. Which is another reason on why I don't think I could ever tighten the noose. I also love my sister and she has been through the same as I. The thought of leaving them makes me sick.

I'm just so tired.

But life must go on. I don't see the light right now, but I know it's out there, somewhere. I just have to keep moving forward. I know you wouldn't want me to die, and William shouldn't have to lose two family members. So, I'll keep living. I just wish you could live with me. I wish you were here to actually read this.

I love you, Paul.

And I miss you more than you'll ever know.


End file.
